


a forced and weeping winter

by brevity_ofwit



Series: changing seasons [1]
Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types, Wiedźmin | The Witcher Series - Andrzej Sapkowski
Genre: Gen, M/M, Minor Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Yennefer z Vengerbergu | Yennefer of Vengerberg, Possibly Unrequited Love, Unrequited Love, also lowkey fae!jaskier vibes, first person pov sorry, is it even poetry?, it's just a badly written lament, jaskier's pov, like kind of, no one's even mentioned by name it's all implicated, originally it was my personal poetry that jaskier suddenly wormed his way into, shitty poetry, to me its canon so my writing exposes that
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-04
Updated: 2020-04-04
Packaged: 2021-02-28 23:21:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 795
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23475370
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/brevity_ofwit/pseuds/brevity_ofwit
Summary: There's no real way to summarise this without giving too much away, so what I can say is:With Geralt comes the ebb and flow of the seasons. He brings the sun and warmth and life and love, and when he leaves, the earth shrivels in a harsh winter. Jaskier's own heart hibernates until Geralt returns to wake him the following Spring. But how does Jaskier feel when the winter lasts a year and Geralt has found someone else?I know everyone says this, but I promise this is a thousand times better than the summary.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia & Jaskier | Dandelion, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Yennefer z Vengerbergu | Yennefer of Vengerberg
Series: changing seasons [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1752619
Comments: 57
Kudos: 128
Collections: The Witcher Alternate Universes





	a forced and weeping winter

**Author's Note:**

> This was originally just something I jotted down in a notebook. It was messy and incoherent and never supposed to become anything. But I found that the more I edited, the more I was reminded of Jaskier. And then from the ashes of many, many redrafts, this arose.

We part when winter comes. You work your way north and I work my way through a pint of ale, already waiting for your return, already missing you fiercely. Icing over as the minutes turn to hours, day slips into night, and icicles form. 

Spring brings you back, reunites us under sun and blue sky at long last. The earth stutters back to life; wildflowers bloom where you walk, withering trees thicken around us, birds wake and sing praises of the turning seasons. And me? I trip and stumble over my words more than usual. I forget myself completely, distracted by love, absently shaking beside you with the energy of it. You have returned to me, dear heart; I simply must rejoice! 

Here you shall stay, for a few months at least, until summer. Close enough to reach, but never to touch. 

When we finally do part-- when our paths diverge and Destiny, the great bitch, rips you from my side-- all the sunlight goes with you. In the peak of summer, I find myself shivering. Fields and forests alike freeze over in your wake. As I watch you walk away once more, I feel my heart curl up within me to hibernate. 

It continues on like this for a few decades, a sickening cycle I’m helpless to end. 

We part, I freeze, we meet, I thaw. 

You leave me, my heart breaks, you return to me, I bind it back together. 

I made myself learn this pattern, study it closely, burn it into my skin while the heat still lasts. Remind myself to soak in every moment with you, your honeyed eyes, the way you say my name, the nicknames you’d give me ( _songbird, morning lark, unequivocal pain in the ass_ ), the feel of your skin when I stray too close-- I stock up on these memories, this warmth, for the season ahead, never sure how long it might last. 

Eventually, this behaviour becomes so ingrained in my being I forget it’s even happening. The incandescent happiness you inspire when you’re near, the catastrophic pain you cause when you’re not. It’s become a part of my life, of existence itself. The small price to pay to stay in your orbit. Expected. So I can hardly notice after the first few years. I just keep my booted foot moving forward, ever sure I will see you again--

Until. 

Until the year of an endless winter. 

Until the year I forgot what sunlight felt like against my skin. 

Until the year I caught cold and never recovered, and the frost bit across my cracked and crumbling skin. 

Until the year you did not come for me and I rotted away, stiff and starving and utterly bereft. 

And then it was painful, seeing you. So unlike before, the sun began to burn, frying me, flaying me. And you were not alone. Before, you had always been alone-- you were always alone, coming to wake me  _ alone _ . And  _ I _ was the one to relieve you of this loneliness.  _ I _ was the one to fill the gaps and silences winter pressed into your soul.  _ I _ was the one that did this, that you trusted to do this.

Until the year you finally remembered your little lark and came to wake me, trailing someone else along behind you.

Never before, not in any of my years of endless toil, had I longed for sleep the way I did then. I wanted to recede, to fall back into nothingness where I was numbed by the cold and endless white. But I could not. Not with you still there, not with your sunshine and candied smiles and the laughs that were no longer reserved for me. 

So, when the burns started to blister and my heart had no more pieces to bind together, I kicked past splintered shards and taught myself how to leave. I learnt how to be the one that turned my back.  I forced winter early, rearranged the seasons-- because it wasn’t as if you hadn’t already. Yes, I packed my things and slipped quietly away into the night, crept like a shadow out the room we hadn’t been sharing and let darkness consume me. By moonlight and a desperate, frantic need to be rid of all heartbreak and misery, I found my new home. A stump of a tree, hollowed out but still standing in a clearing somewhere deep within the woods, encased in moss and encircled by stone. And there I am still, burrowed and sleeping, trying to forget sunlight and flowers, forget honeyed eyes and puckered skin. Trying to forget  _ you _ and an Us that had never really been. 

Perhaps one day, I finally will. 

For now, I think an eternal slumber is well in order. 

**Author's Note:**

> Another work! Sort of. Table scraps, if I were being honest. 
> 
> However!! I hope you still enjoyed this sombre piece. I'm always a sucker for a happy ending, but sometimes, you just need to wallow a bit in misery before you can let yourself have that. So, this is me wallowing in someone else's heartbreak in lieu of finding some actual material.
> 
> Anyway, y'all know the drill; likes and comments feed my will to live and write. But NO PRESSURE. Sometimes, when an author outright asks for comments, my responses feel insincere and uncomfortably jilted. For this, all I ask is that if you liked something, please leave a comment to let me know. Or if you didn't like this, let me know all the same! Literally anything, even just several exclamation points or two crying face emojis. A single uppercase letter. Five paragraphs in Tolkien Elvish. A n y t h i n g.
> 
> Thank you! You can find me on Tumblr here: @ sarahh-tonin.


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